The War of Two Queens (Blood And Ash Series Book 4)

Casteel

I opened my eyes at the sound of fizzing water and the heavy, sweet scent of lilacs. Thick, purple blossoms climbed up the walls and stretched across the ceiling. Steam rose in the pinpoints of sunlight. Water churned restlessly among the boulders.

I hadn’t remembered falling asleep. I’d been sharpening the bone until I grew tired. Either way, I wasn’t there now. At least, not mentally. I was in the cavern. What Poppy called my cavern. But it was ours now. A paradise.

My heart started pounding fast, shocking the hell out of me. It hadn’t beat like this in days. Should be concerned about that. It was a warning I needed to heed, but I couldn’t. Not now.

Twisting at the waist, I scanned the swirling surface of the water and the wispy steam. “Poppy?” I rasped, forcing a dry swallow.

Nothing.

My damn stomach started thumping in tandem with my heart. Where was she? I turned again, swaying in the warm water and the humid air. Why was I here without her? It was almost too cruel to wake and find myself here alone. Was this some new form of punishment?

Punishment for the sins I’d committed. The lies I’d spun. The lives I’d forfeited. The lives I’d taken with my own hands. I’d always known those deeds would come back to reap what I’d sown, no matter my intentions. No matter how much I wanted to be better.

To deserve someone like Poppy—someone so incredibly strong, so curious and intelligent and unbelievably kind. Someone who deserved another as equally good as her. That wasn’t me. My eyes closed as my chest clenched. That would never be me. I knew that. Had always known that. From the moment I realized who I had under me at the Red Pearl.

I knew I was where I had no right to be.

Someone like me—someone capable of killing the woman who loved me—wasn’t worthy of a goddess. It didn’t matter that Shea had betrayed me or her kingdom. Decades later, and no matter the reasons, that shit and all the what-ifs still ate at me. My chin dropped, and my eyes opened, my gaze falling to my hands—hands whole in this piece of paradise but still nicked and scarred. Two hands that had taken Shea’s life and so many others, it was a wonder they weren’t forever stained by blood.

But I was forever Poppy’s.

I’d been coming for her, but she’d found me at the Red Pearl. I’d been planning on taking her, but she’d captured me on the Rise surrounding Masadonia. I’d been ready to use her, but under the willow, she had wrapped me around every single one of her fingers without even trying. I’d been prepared to do anything, but she’d become everything to me when she asked me to stay the night while in New Haven.

She’d claimed me.

And she’d kept me, even after knowing what I was, who I was, and what I’d done. She loved me.

A better man, one not steeped in the kind of blood I was, would’ve walked away. Would’ve left her to find someone good. Deserving.

But I wasn’t that kind of man.

“Cas?”

Good gods, my entire body jerked at the sound of her voice. My damn breath actually seized in my lungs. I couldn’t even move at first. I was so locked up. Just her voice did that. Her voice.

Control rushed back into my body, and I spun in the bubbling water. I saw her then, and the sight of her…

She stood there, the water frothing around rounded hips and teasing the soft dips and rises of her belly. My lips tingled with the memory of tracing those faded claw marks above her navel, and the need to drop to my knees and pay homage to them almost drove me underwater.

I took in the faint pink marks streaking across her left temple and cutting through the arched brow—healed wounds that were as beautiful as the freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose. Scars that only spoke to the strength of the delicate sweep of her cheekbones and her proud brow. And those eyes…

They were wideset and large, heavily lashed, and they had been stunning before, reminding me of glistening spring grass. Now, the silvery glow behind the pupils and the thin wisps streaking through the green were striking. Her eyes… Hell, they were a window to my soul.

I drank her in, my lips parting on a breath that never left me. All that beautiful red-wine hair cascaded over her shoulders and skimmed the water. The heavy swell of her breasts parted the tangled mass of curls and waves, offering a tantalizing glimpse of rosy-pink skin. My heart stuttered—actually skipped a godsdamn beat as I continued soaking in the sight of that stubborn, slightly pointed chin and those fucking mind-blowing lips that were dewy and ripe like sweet berries. My cock hardened so quickly it finally kicked the air out of my lungs. Those lips…

They were a torment in the best possible way.

Never in my life had it taken me so long to find my voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

That mouth…the corners tipped up, and the smile that raced across her face owned me.

Always.

And forever.

Poppy lurched forward, and I pushed through the water. It swirled in a frenzy as we cut through it, reaching each other at the same moment.

I took her in my arms, and the contact of her warm, soft flesh against mine nearly stopped my heart. It might’ve. I didn’t know.

Fisting a hand in her silken hair, I dropped my head to hers and held her. Held her tightly as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “My Queen,” I whispered as the crown of her head brushed my lips. I inhaled deeply, finding a hint of jasmine, the scent of her, underneath the lilac.

“My King.” Poppy shuddered, and I managed to find a way to press her even closer to me.

I closed my eyes. “You shouldn’t call me that.” I kissed her head again. “I’ll get an overinflated sense of self-importance.”

She laughed. Gods, her laugh did just as I’d warned. It made me feel important. Powerful. Because I could make her laugh when the sound had been so rare.

“Then you shouldn’t call me your Queen,” she said.

“But you are important.” I forced my grip on her hair to loosen. I ran my fingers through the strands, marveling at the feel. The realness. “A goddess. Which, by the way, just want to point out…I knew it. Maybe I should call you—”

She jerked back, her eyes going wide as she tilted her head back and looked up at me. “You…you know?”

Gods, those eyes… The green with the wispy tendrils of silver was enthralling.

“Casteel?” She pressed a hand—a warm palm a little callused from handling a sword and dagger—against my chest.

“Your eyes…” I slipped my hand to her cheek. “They’re mesmerizing,” I told her. “Almost as much as those plump little—”

“Casteel.” Her cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink.

I chuckled, and I wanted to do it again when I saw how her lips parted at the sound. “Yeah, I know you’re a goddess.”

“How?” The softness vanished from her features instantaneously. Her jaw hardened under my palm. So did her eyes. They became fractured emerald jewels. The transformation was shocking…and really hot. “The Blood Queen.”

“I knew the moment she said Malec was a god. That would mean you’re one, too.”

“Malec’s not my father. It’s Ires,” she said. “Malec’s twin. He’s the cave cat—the one we saw in the cage.”

Surprise blasted through me, but it made sense. Isbeth had no idea where Malec was. She hadn’t even realized that he was still alive—at least technically. I should’ve caught onto that when Isbeth asked about where Malec was.

“She’s taken my father and you,” Poppy said, her throat working on a swallow. “She’s taken—”

“She is nothing to us,” I said, hating the pain building in her eyes. “Nothing.”

She searched my face closely as her fingers curled against my chest. “This is real,” she whispered.

I nodded, dragging my thumb over the jagged mark on her cheek. “Heartmates.”

Her lips trembled. “I have so many things I want to say. So much I want to ask you. I don’t know where to start.” Her eyes briefly closed. “No. I do. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” I totally was.

She reached for my wrist, and I knew why. I knew what she wanted to see, and what she would see wasn’t real. “Don’t,” I told her as she froze, her eyes dampening. “Are you okay?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Disbelief filled her voice. “I’m not the one being held captive.”

“No, you’re just the one at war.”

“Not the same thing.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m okay, Casteel, but I got what she sent—”

Fury entrenched itself deep within me at the thought of what she must have felt. “I’m here. You’re here. I’m okay, Poppy.”

I could see it—the struggle. The battle that she won because, of course, she would. She was that damn strong.

Her chin lifted. “I’m coming for you.”

Those four words set off a conflicted flurry of emotions. Anticipation. Dread. The need to really have her in my arms and hear her voice outside of this dream. To see her smile and listen to her questions, her beliefs, her everything. It battled with a great sense of alarm—that we didn’t know exactly what the Blood Queen planned. What it really had to do with Poppy.

“We’re close to Three Rivers,” she told me.

Holy shit, she was close.

“Kieran is with me,” she said, and my heart—fuck, it was beating fast again. “And I have the draken.” Her face tensed, paling. “Actually, only Reaver is with me. But I also have this Primal spell—”

“Wait. What?” I stared down at her, my thumb stilling just below her lip. “The draken? You have them now?”

“Yes. I was able to summon them.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” She drew out the word. “I think you’ll like Reaver.” Her nose scrunched in that adorable way of hers. “Or maybe not. He tried to bite Kieran.”

My brows lifted. “A draken tried to bite Kieran?”

She nodded.

“My Kieran?”

“Yes, but at this point, if Reaver tries to bite him again, Kieran has it coming. All of it is a long story,” she quickly added. “We’ve…we’ve lost so many—” Her breath caught, and my chest ached at the sight of the pain in her eyes. “Draken. Wolven. Soldiers. We lost Arden.”

Damn it.

I pressed my lips to her forehead. Arden was a good man. Damn it. And to hear that draken had already fallen? Gods.

She took another breath and then pulled back. “Can you tell me anything about where you’re being held? Anything?”

“I…”

“What?” She bit down on her lower lip, drawing my attention. “Are you about to leave me again?”

“I never left you,” I said at once.

Her stare softened as she leaned in to me. My arm tightened around her lower back. “Can you tell me anything? Even the smallest detail, Casteel.”

Uncertainty built. “I don’t want…”

“What?”

“I don’t want you anywhere near Carsodonia,” I admitted. “I don’t want you anywhere near—”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Poppy cut me off.

“I know.” I slid my thumb over her brow. “You’re not afraid of anyone or anything.”

“That’s not true. Snakes scare me.”

My lips twitched. “And barrats.”

“Those, too. But her? Absolutely, not. I’m coming for you, and don’t you dare hide information from me out of some chauvinistic need to protect me.”

“Chauvinistic?” I grinned. “I was thinking it was love that fueled my need to protect you.”

“Casteel,” she warned.

“I think you want to stab me.”

“I would, but since you like it when I do, it doesn’t have the desired effect I’m going for.”

I laughed, and then my damn breath caught as she did it again. She softened at the sound. She yearned at the sound. I saw it in the set of her mouth and in her eyes.

Damn it.

“I’m underground. I don’t know where exactly, but I think—” I thought of the Handmaiden. “I think it’s part of a tunnel system.”

Her nose scrunched. “Remember the underground paths that led to Redrock from the bluffs? There were tunnels under the Temple of Theon in Oak Ambler, too. A pretty large network that connected to Castle Redrock and some of the estates,” she told me and then quickly shared how she’d discovered it. “Could they be like that?”

“Could be.” My jaw tightened at the feel of icy fingers brushing the nape of my neck. A bolt of panic cut through me. I dipped my head, kissing her. The touch of her lips. The taste. She was a drug.

“Cas,” she murmured against my mouth, and everything in me tightened. “We should be talking.”

“I know. I know.” There were things to be discussed. Important things. I wanted to know what her days and nights had been like. How Kieran was. I wanted to know more about her siege of Oak Ambler. Who she’d stabbed—because, surely, she had stabbed someone. Lots of someones. I wanted to know that she was okay. That she wasn’t afraid. That she wasn’t punishing herself. But she was here, in front of me, and I could feel it, the coldness sinking into my skin. It was just a chill, but one of us was waking, and I knew how fast it could happen.

I kissed her again.

There was nothing soft about it. I kissed to feel her. To show her how much she’d claimed me. And when I prodded at the seam of her mouth with the tip of my tongue, she opened for me. She let me in like always, and it was almost as good as the real thing. Almost. I kissed until I felt the cold kiss at the nape of my neck, and then I lifted my head.

The daze slowly cleared from her eyes as she looked up at me, and I saw the moment she knew. She realized that this was coming to an end.

“No,” she whispered.

My heart cracked as I dropped my forehead to hers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I shuddered, knowing we didn’t have much time left and that there was something I needed to tell her. “I know what Isbeth is. A demis.”

“A what?”

“A false god. Ask Kieran. Or Reaver. The draken must be old. He may know what her weakness is. A demis is like a god…but not.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “She’s also learned how to harness Primal energy—I don’t know now if it’s because of what she is or something Malec told her. But be careful. That magic is what killed the draken.”

“I’m always careful.” I pressed my lips to the tip of her nose as the chill spread down my spine, and a pang of hunger ripped through me. “Two hearts. We’re two hearts.” I brushed my lips over her brow, closing my eyes. “One soul. We’ll find each other again. We always will—”

The dream fragmented, shattering no matter how hard I tried to keep it together—to keep Poppy in my arms. I awoke shivering in the cold cell, alone and starving.

Poppy

“Demis,” I announced. A faint, misty cloud followed my words. The air wasn’t as chilled as it had been along the coast. Soon, when we crossed between Whitebridge and Three Rivers, it would be warmer, but we couldn’t risk a fire.

We were too close to the Blood Forest.

This was our second night camping near the cursed lands. So far, there’d been no sign of the mist or the Craven, but our luck could change at any second. Because of that, we rested in shifts, and very few of us slept deeply.

But, somehow, I’d managed to sleep after being on the road for six days. After not reaching Casteel for nine nights, I’d finally drifted off. But I’d been tired. Really tired. In a way I thought had nothing to do with our hard pace. Something that concerned me greatly and also made me think about how hungry I’d been over the last day or so. How dry my throat had felt no matter how much I drank. I didn’t want to think about any of those things right now while speaking to the side of a wagon.

There was no answer.

Biting back frustration, I rapped my knuckles off the side.

“What?” came the gravelly reply.

“I just woke up,” I said, plopping down on the ground outside of the wagon.

“Okay.” The tarp muffled Reaver’s voice. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“She had a dream,” Kieran explained, having followed me. He lowered himself far more gracefully onto the cold, packed ground beside me. “About Cas.”

“And?”

Kieran shot me a look that warned he was a second away from toppling the wagon. Which would be funny but not worth the ensuing drama.

“He was able to tell me a little bit about where he’s being kept,” I told Reaver. “He’s underground and thinks it’s some sort of tunnel system—possibly something like what was in Oak Ambler. And he told me what Isbeth is. A demis. A false god. He told me to ask Kieran, but all he could remember was some sort of old wives’ tale.”

There was a gap of silence, and I was half afraid that Reaver had gone back to sleep. “And what is this tale?”

“Do I really need to repeat it?” Kieran asked. “To a wagon? And why are you even sleeping in there anyway? You have a tent you could have set up.”

“I find tents to be…suffocating.”

“But you don’t feel as if sleeping under a tarp is suffocating?”

“No.”

Okay. That didn’t make any sense but was beside the point. “Kieran.”

He sighed. “Whatever. There was this old story my mother used to tell Vonetta and me about a girl who had fallen in love with another who was already mated. She believed that she was far more worthy, and so she prayed every day. Eventually, a god who claimed to be Aios came and promised to grant her what she desired, so long as she gave up something in return—the firstborn of the family. Her eldest brother. So, she had to kill him or something. And she did. But, of course, it wasn’t Aios. It was a demis who had tricked her into killing her sibling.”

“Even after hearing that for the second time, it still makes little sense,” I said. “Like, I get the message. You can’t make someone love you, right? Not even a god could or should do that. But why would a demis do that? Why make the woman kill her brother?”

“I guess because the demis can?” Kieran said with a shrug. “No idea. All of that was never really explained, and again, I didn’t think any of it was rooted in truth.”

I reached for the ring, finding the chain beneath the collar of my coat. “This fable could really use some fleshing out.”

“Well, I’m sure the writer of such a story cares about your opinion,” a rough voice intruded from the recesses of the wagon. “Actually, no, they probably don’t. The demis are real but very rare,” Reaver said. “So rare that I’ve never seen one.”

“But what are they exactly?” I asked.

“A god who was made and not born. A mortal Ascended by a god but not a third-born and considered Chosen. The few who existed were considered false gods,” he explained.

Kieran sent me a quick glance. “Do you know of their weaknesses?”

“As I said, I never knew any. The act of Ascending a mortal not Chosen was forbidden, and few dared to break that law.” There was another pause. “Most didn’t survive the Ascension, but those who did, for all intents and purposes, were gods. I assume their weaknesses would be the same as any god’s.”

“Meaning they could only be killed by another god or a Primal or by shadowstone through the head or heart.” I sat back. “That’s good news.”

“It is.” Kieran’s gaze met mine. “We now know how to kill Isbeth.”

It was good news, but if Isbeth was basically a god, she had far more years of experience when it came to using the eather—and, well, everything else.

“Great. Now you two can go chat elsewhere, and I can go back to sleep,” Reaver said.

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you find someplace else to sleep?”

“Why don’t you go fu—?”

“All right,” I cut in as Kieran emitted a low growl. A dull ache had started in my forehead. There’d been headaches on and off for the last couple of days, but I wasn’t sure if this one was due to speaking with Reaver or something else. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“Thank the gods.” Reaver’s hands suddenly appeared above the wagon. He shook them as if he were in joyous prayer.

I took a deep breath, rising. Kieran followed as we made our way across the short distance to the tent we’d shared. I thought everything over. Knowing that Casteel believed he was being kept under Carsodonia and not in the mines or some other place was information we hadn’t had before. As was the knowledge that Isbeth was a demis—a false god that could be killed like any other god.

I stopped before reaching the tent. Kieran had been on watch duty, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. I turned to him. “I can take over from here.”

He nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the star-strewn sky. “How was he?” he asked, having not gotten a chance to ask that before. “How did Casteel look?”

“He looked good. Perfect,” I whispered, chest squeezing. I hadn’t seen those new cuts on his skin like I had the first time. In this dream, he didn’t appear thinner. There was no scruff on his cheeks. He looked exactly as I remembered when I last saw him in person, thirty-nine days ago. But I knew it was a façade. That part hadn’t been real at all, and I wasn’t sure if he’d been able to present himself differently this time because he was aware that we were soul walking. “He told me he was okay,” I said.

Kieran smiled, but I didn’t taste relief from him. Because he knew, just like I did, that Casteel couldn’t be okay.

I touched the ring, closing my eyes.

“Hell,” Kieran muttered. “Look.”

Opening my eyes, I followed his gaze to the empty land between the Blood Forest and us, where thick trails of mist gathered and swirled across the ground.

“Craven.” Our luck had changed. I reached for my dagger.

“For fuck’s sake,” Reaver shouted, tossing the tarp aside as he rose…completely naked. He jumped from the wagon, landing in a crouch. “I got this.”

“What does he think he’s going to do buck-ass na—?” Kieran bit off as sparks of light erupted all over Reaver, and he shifted into his draken form. “Well, okay, he’s going to do that.”

A shrill wail of a Craven pierced the silence, and then a funnel of silvery-white fire lit up the night, cutting through the darkness and the gathering Craven.

Casteel

Icy water splashed over my head, sending a painful shockwave through me as I jackknifed off my side. Eyes flying open, I dragged in air, even as my lungs locked from the cold drenching my skin.

“He’s awake now,” came the dry voice.

“Took long enough,” a softer, throatier voice replied. I tensed, recognizing that voice. The annoyance.

The Blood Queen.

Feeling the sharpened bone behind my back, I blinked away the cascading water and waited…and waited for my vision to make sense of the shapes in front of me. To pull them into focus.

Callum knelt beside me, a bucket by his knee. His features were still blurry, but I could see the disgust in the curl of his lip. “He’s not looking too well, Your Majesty.”

My attention shifted to who waited behind him. The Blood Queen stood tall and straight, the thin material of her midnight gown clinging to her narrow hips. I had to blink again because I was almost positive upon first glance that she wore no top. I was wrong. Sort of. The bodice of the gown was cleaved in two, the thicker panels of material held together by sheer lace only covering the fullest parts of her breasts. Disgust filled my gut.

“He stinks,” Isbeth replied.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, righting myself enough and slipping my right hand to my hip, close to the bone.

“I would love to do just that.” Her head tilted, and the hair piled on top glinted a deep auburn in the firelight. Almost like Poppy’s. Almost. “However, it’s become highly apparent that you’ve refused to bathe or eat.”

Eat? When had food been brought in? I saw a plate then, several feet from me. There was a hunk of cheese and some stale bread on it. I had no idea when that had arrived.

From the cloud of my thoughts, what Poppy had told me in the dream broke free. I loosened my jaw, wincing. The son of a bitch ached. My whole face did. Teeth. Fangs. They throbbed as my gaze focused on the Queen. My time with Poppy in the cavern was the only time the need had vanished—the only time I felt like myself.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, latching onto a moment of clarity. “About what I saw in Oak Ambler.”

Isbeth raised a brow.

I forced a painful, dry swallow. “A large gray cat kept in a cage.”

Her nostrils flared on a sharp inhale, and she took a step forward. “When did you see that?”

“Oh, you know,”—I leaned forward slightly—“when I was touring Castle Redrock.”

“And was anyone else sightseeing with you?”

“Maybe.” I watched her. “Why the fuck do you have a cat caged? Is that one of your…pets?”

Her blood-red lips twisted into a thin smile. “Not my favorite. That would be you.”

“Honored,” I growled, and the smile deepened. “The cat didn’t look like he was doing too well.”

“The cat is fine.”

The edges of my fingers brushed the bone. “But it must be old. If it’s the same one Poppy spoke of—the one she saw as a child.”

Isbeth went completely still.

“She once told me she saw it under Wayfair Castle.”

“Penellaphe was a curious child.”

“You still have it?”

Her stare fixed on me. “He’s right where he was when Penellaphe saw him all those years ago,” she said, and it took everything in me not to smile at the savage rush of satisfaction I felt. “But he may be hungry. Perhaps I will feed him the next finger I take.”

“Why don’t you come take it now? Not your golden boy.”

Callum frowned. “I am not a boy.”

“Or one of your Handmaidens,” I continued, holding her stare. “Or are you too afraid? Too weak?”

Isbeth tipped her head back, laughing. “Afraid? Of you? The only thing about you that frightens me is your stench.”

“So you say,” I murmured. “But I know the truth. Everyone here does. Your courage comes from keeping those stronger than you in chains.”

Her laughter ceased. “You think you’re stronger than me?”

“Fuck, yeah.” I smiled then, closing my hand around the bone. “I am, after all, my mother’s son.”

Isbeth stared down at me and then shot forward, just like I knew she would because some things never changed. Her fragile ego was one of them.

I wrenched the bone out from behind my back, thrusting it up as her hand closed around my throat, just above the shadowstone band.

Isbeth’s eyes went wide as her entire body jerked.

“That’s for Poppy’s brother,” I bit out.

Slowly, Isbeth lowered her chin and looked down to where the bone protruded from the center of her chest. Missed her godsdamn heart by an inch, if that.

Her gaze lifted to mine, the glow in her dark eyes bright. “Ouch,” she hissed, shoving me back. Hard.

My head cracked off the wall, the pain exploding behind my eyes in a hundred starbursts. Sliding sideways, I caught myself before I toppled over.

“That was really unnecessary.” Isbeth’s chest rose as she reached down, gripping the bone. The Handmaidens had moved in, but she stopped them. Only Callum remained where he knelt, his eyes fixed with captive interest. “All it served to do is anger me.”

“And ruin your gown,” I added. The pain in my head intensified the hunger—the need to feed and heal whatever recent damage had been inflicted.

Her lips pulled back, revealing blood-coated teeth. “That, too.” She pulled the bone free, tossing it aside. “Contrary to what you may think, I don’t want to kill you, even though it would make me feel very, very happy to do so at the moment. I need you alive.”

She continued speaking, but I only caught parts of it. Her heartbeat had sped up. The scent of her blood was strong. I even heard the golden Rev’s heart. I felt the steady thump of the Handmaidens’, who stood quietly behind her.

“He needs blood,” Callum stated.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“He needs an attitude adjustment,” she retorted.

Thump. Whoosh. Thump. Whoosh.

“Can’t argue with that. But look at his eyes. They’re nearly black.” Callum started to rise. “If he doesn’t get some blood in him soon, he will—”

“Rip your fucking throat out?” I finished for him. “And shove your entrails down the gaping hole?”

Callum’s lips pursed as he eyed me. “That painted a lovely picture. Thank you.”

“Fuck you,” I growled.

“Well, we know what your favorite word is today.” Isbeth sighed, wiping at the blood that ran down the center of her stomach. “I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. I’ve given you food, clean water, a”—she glanced at where a downed Craven lay—“somewhat safe shelter. All I’ve taken from you is a finger. And yet, you stab me.”

The absolute fuckery of her statement cleared a little of the haze of impending bloodlust.

“Meanwhile, my daughter has taken my port city from me,” she continued, and my entire body tightened. “Ah, I see that has your attention. Yes. Penellaphe seized Oak Ambler, and I have a feeling I’m now a few Ascended short of what I was before.”

I felt my lips start to curve upward.

“Smile all you want.” Isbeth bent at the waist, her heavily lined eyes shrewd. “Do I look remotely bothered by the news?”

It took a moment to focus. No, she did not.

“Oak Ambler would always fall,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that I barely heard over her heart. “It had to.”

A low rumbling sound filled the cell, and she straightened suddenly, her crimson lips thinning. My lips had peeled back, and that sound…it was me.

“Oh, for godssake.” Isbeth snapped her fingers, motioning one of the Handmaidens forward. Something was in her hand. A chalice. “Hold him.”

Callum moved fast, but I saw him. I lurched to the side and to my feet, throwing out my elbow and making contact with the Rev’s chin, startling the bitch. The golden boy grunted as he stumbled back. There was no time to relish either of those things. I launched myself at her. The chain tightened around my throat, jerking my body back. I shot forward again, past the point of caring how tight the band around my throat clamped down. Past the ability to register the pain from the shackles digging into my ankles. I pulled hard against the chains, stretching out—

An arm clamped around my chest, hauling me back. “That hurt,” Callum muttered as he slammed his booted foot into my calf. The move, one I should’ve known was coming, took my damn leg out from underneath me.

I went down, my knees cracking off the stone floor as one of the Handmaidens gripped the chains securing my arms and twisted. She forced my arms to cross over my chest, pinning them there as fingers dug into my jaw, yanking my head back.

“Get this over with,” Isbeth ordered.

Another Handmaiden briefly appeared in my line of sight as I bucked against the Rev’s hold, my feet slipping over the floor as I threw my head back. The hiss of pain brought a wild, choked laugh to my lips as Callum’s head snapped back. I pushed my weight into him, slamming him into the wall as I dragged the Handmaiden holding the chains forward.

“Gods,” Callum groaned, shifting his hold from behind me. “He’s still strong.”

“Of course, he is,” Isbeth commented. “He’s of the Elemental bloodline. They are always strong. Fighters. No other bloodline would’ve been brave—nor idiotic—enough to stab me. Even when they’re mere hours from becoming nothing more than a blood-starved animal. And I bet he also has the blood of my daughter in him.”

And then everything was a blur of black and pain and something earthy and charred. Of fingers digging into my jaw and forcing my mouth open. Someone shoved a chalice in my face, under my nose, and a brief, iron-rich scent hit me before landing on my tongue, filling my mouth, and pouring down my throat.

I choked, gagging on the warm thickness, even as every cell in my body opened up, becoming raw and screaming in need.

“I must confess something, my dear son-in-law.” Isbeth’s voice was a lash of flames. “You know what I never wanted to be? A Primal. I never wanted that weakness.”

She was closer. Probably close enough for me to get to her again, but the blood hit my gut, and my entire body spasmed.

“A god can be killed just like an Atlantian. Destroy the heart and the mind. But a Primal? You have to weaken them first. And do you know how you weaken a Primal? It’s rather cruel. Love. Love can be weaponized, weakening a Primal and becoming the blade that ends their existence.” A soft laugh echoed around me. Through me. “I wonder how much you even know about Primals. I must admit, I knew very little myself. If it weren’t for my Malec, I never would’ve learned the truth. I never would’ve known that a Primal could be born to the mortal realm.”

A Primal born to the mortal realm?

“When the gods you know now Ascended to rule over Iliseeum and the mortal realm, forcing most of the Primals into their glorious eternities, it created a ripple effect that caught the eyes and ears of the Fates. They made sure that a spark was left—a chance for rebirth of the greatest powers. An ember of Primal life that could only ignite in the female lineage of the Primal of Life.”

My head jerked up, and I saw Isbeth in sudden, sharp clarity. What she was saying, suggesting… She hadn’t given birth to a god. She’d birthed a—

Muscles tightened to painful rigidity as the blood then kissed my veins. It was like something on the verge of catching fire, but it lit up my senses, pulling me back inch by inch from the brink—

The chalice disappeared, and a ragged groan of pain punched out of me as my throat worked to swallow more, but there was nothing else. That was it.

But it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

Isbeth had drifted even closer, the feel of her stare like rusted nails against my flesh. “The color is already returning to his skin. This will do. For now.”

I looked for her, only to realize my eyes had closed. Forcing them to open, I lifted them to her.

She smiled, and it was a tear to the chest because it was a small curve of the lips. An almost bashful, innocent smile, the same as I’d seen on Poppy.

The ache in my stomach exploded once again, more intense than before. What little blood trickled through my veins only took away the numbness. That was all. And it was no reprieve.

She knew that. She knew exactly what that small taste of blood would do.

My hand burned. My legs. The numerous cuts stung as if I’d been swarmed by hornets. And the hunger…it ramped up until it swelled.

I launched off the floor, pulling at the chains as the growl vibrating from my chest rumbled into a howl. I started to come apart at the seams, shattering into pieces that were no longer grounded in any sense of self.

Hunger.

That was all I was.

Hunger.